1 Reason Why You Shouldn't Get Cancer
by RedIs4Janto
Summary: What happens when a serial killer goes on a spree in Santa Barbara and starts performing live dissections on terminal cancer patients? Will one of Santa Barbara's finest have to go undercover? And will it be up to Shawn and Gus to make sure he survives?
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Psych related. All I have are my ideas.

Kidnapping

Sally Sparrow woke up in her hospital bed. She looked once again at the iv drip stuck in her arm. After 3 months, she was still in denial about the cancer ravaging her body. She was now in the final stages of the disease and no amount of chemotherapy could save her. It was only a matter of weeks before it completely overtook her. As she lay in bed, contemplating her life, Sally Sparrow heard a sound outside the door of her hospital bedroom. She glanced over to the side of her bed and saw the red light of the clock, indicating it was 1:15 am. She knew that her boyfriend, Larry Nightingale, had gone home for the night. A shadow approached her room and the door slowly creaked open. The hospital was almost deserted, so Sally assumed it was the night hospital staff coming to adjust the medication. Nevertheless, she was still unsure about who it was, so she tentatively called out "Hello? Who's there?". There was no reply from the figure, who was now approaching the foot of the hospital bed. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly there was a wet towel with a strong chemical smell pressed against her face. "Chloroform" was the last thing she thought before she passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p>Carlton Lassiter slammed the papers on his desk angrily. Four weeks he'd been on this case, and not a single clue about the identity of the killer had come up. All the killings had been the same. Terminal cancer patients stolen from hospitals in the dead of night with no one noticing anything. A few days later the body of the patient would be found: cut open and sewed back up, like someone had tried to perform an autopsy on it. Despite the extensive security that had be established after the first couple of killings, the culprit still managed to get in and out of each patient's room quickly and unobtrusively. No one ever remembered a mysterious figure coming in or out of any of the victims rooms anywhere near the time of the kidnapping. Carlton knew that he would have solve this case soon, or more people would lose their lives and he did not need any distractions.<p>

Just then, Carlton's worst distraction walked through the doors.

"Lassie-face!" cried Shawn Spencer. "There you are! You know, every time Gus and I stopped by here your desk was empty. Naturally, Gus missed you so we checked back every hour."

"I did not want to come back hear every hour Shawn, you know I hate the station unless we are on a case." replied the seemingly always irritated Burton Guster.

Lassiter gave both consultants a look of contempt and replied, "Look, Spencer, under normal circumstances I would threaten to take you down to the shooting range and use you as a target, but right now I'm busy. There's a serial killer on the loose and I need to catch him before he hurts anymore innocent people."

"Serial killer... Is that by any chance the murderer who has been targeting the cancer patients at Santa Barbara Hospital? The one who kills every week?" asked Shawn.

"Yeah, it is exactly who I am talking about. And, if you didn't notice, the week is almost up, so he should be striking anytime soon." replied the irate detective. "Now if you will excuse me, I want to find out who he is before he kills again."

As he spoke, Buzz McNab approached Lassiter.

"Excuse me, Detective Lassiter. I'm afraid I have some bad news. He has killed again. This time a Sally Sparrow age 28 with terminal brain cancer. The same M.O., same marks. The only difference is her wrists and ankles show signs of restraint. Looks like he's ditched the paralytic and only use a general anesthetic after he strapped her down. Then, same as the others, he tried removing the "problem", which was in her case a life-threatening brain tumor. She died the same way all the others did, blood loss."

Carlton whirled around and grabbed the file.

"I don't believe it, it's only been 5 days since the last kill. He should have waited for another 2 days. He must be getting more confident"

The door to the chief's office opened and Chief Vick walked out. She gave Lassiter a meaningful look and motioned for him to follow her into the conference room. He gave Spencer a look that said "I'm going to kill you later" and followed the chief.

When Shawn and Gus attempted to follow Chief Vick stopped them and said, "Stay out. There's something Detective Lassiter, O'Hara and I need to discuss." With those words she shut the door behind her.

"You know what this means, don't you Gus?" said the over-excited psychic. "Something is going on in there. Something we need to find out about."

"Uh, no Shawn. We are not spying on Chief Vick's meeting in the station. You know what happened last time we did it. I like my eyebrows just the way they are"

"Gus, don't be a bedazzled tap shoe." scoffed Shawn. "How will we ever get the case if I can't have a good psychic vision about it?"

"I'm serious Shawn, I stay right here and I'm not moving till Lassiter, Juliet and the Chief come out." Gus replied firmly.

"Fine...if you want to stand outside the door and look like you were listening in on the whole conversation, be my guest. I'm going to go over to that less visible spot by the planter and listen from there."

Not wanting to be caught spying, Guster reluctantly followed Shawn to the rubber plant near the wall to the conference room.

Meanwhile in the room, the chief was lecturing the detectives.

"The government wants to turn this case over to the FBI. They feel too many lives have been lost to allow the current course of action to continue. They have allowed you one more week to solve this case. After that they will be taking over."

"I understand the gravity of the situation. People's lives are at stake right now and something has to be done." said Carlton. "I propose that to discover the identity of the killer, someone needs to go undercover at the Santa Barbara Hospital."

"I assume you already have an idea of the cover that will be assumed?" queried the chief.

"Yes. I will be a terminal lung cancer patient who transferred to Santa Barbara Hospital to receive extra treatment. Hopefully, the serial killer will choose me as the next target and we can apprehend him before he attempts to kill me."

Juliet, who had been quiet the whole meeting, interjected. "I don't think that's a good idea. It's much too dangerous. We can't give you the true protection you need without it being suspicious and by the time we discover the identity of the killer it could be too late and you could already be dead. It would be safer to impersonate a doctor."

"I understand your concern O'Hara, but something must be done. Besides, forging the credentials needed to pull of being a doctor, and having the knowledge of one, is far to complicated. With some simple papers I can easily pass off as a patient. I have just got out of having a bad case of the flu and my still pale skin and sick complexion should be enough to fool anyone who doesn't look to close."

Chief Vick looked at the partners. "Although I agree with O'Hara that this is very dangerous, I do believe that something must be done and right know, Carlton's plan seems to be the most logical course of action. I will call the mayor's office and ask him to get the papers in. Hopefully, you will officially be admitted into the Santa Barbara Hospital tomorrow early morning. We don't want your entrance to be to big of a show. You are dismissed."

"Did you hear that," whispered Shawn from the bushes. "Lassie's going undercover to catch a serial killer. Man, it should be us in there."

"I know what your thinking Shawn, and no, we are not going to get involved in another one of Lassiter's cases." replied Gus.

At that moment, both of the men felt their shirt collar's being pulled and they were dragged from behind the bushes and who else could it be but Detective Carlton Lassiter.

"Now you listen to me very closely. I know you heard everything from that meeting and I have one thing to tell you. Stay out of my way. I catch either of you messing around with my case and I will personally let you know how it feels to have both of your thumbs broken."

"Oh Lassie, threatening us now are you? Isn't that police brutality?" replied the ever-cocky psychic detective.

"I think what he means to say, Head Detective, is that we will stay out of your way completely." said Gus in a nervous voice.

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><p>So yeah, tell me what you think. Please review. I realize the first chapter was a little boring but I had to set it up. Hope this chapter was better. Bear with me and let me know what I can do better.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Undercover

Everything was white. It drove Carlton mad. The hospital gowns, the bed clothes even the utensils were pure white, and worst of all, it was spotless. Carlton hated the way that everything was scrubbed down till you could see every detail of your face on the reflective surfaces, and he hated the smell of the antiseptic. He longed for the shooting range, the ever present smell of gunpowder, the taste of his coffee, three creams and four sugars, but instead he was stuck in the hospital lying in a spotless bed and eating crappy hospital food. He couldn't believe that he was going to have to stay here for at least another 3 days, probably 2 though, since the killer was killing faster.

The first thing Carlton did was grab the large atlas on the table beside his bed. He flipped it open and turned to page 55, where he had hidden the case file on the murders. Now, if anyone saw him, they would assume he was boning up on his knowledge of the world. "The killer is indiscriminate," Carlton mused to himself, "Any age, any race, it doesn't matter. The only given is that they have to be dying of a terminal cancer. At first glance, they seem like some sort of mercy killings, but when you realize he was doing autopsies on the. Maybe the killer feels less guilty killing dying people. He probably reasons that it isn't as wrong to kill them if they are going to die soon anyway. That would make sense, considering most of the victims were on their 3rd or 4th relapse. There was hardly a chance for them to survive, even with the chemo. The abductions all took place from different hospitals, so it's likely not to be a nurse or doctor that works specifically at one hospital. However, that can't be ruled out because they could forge ID badges. Now the motive, what could that possibly be? The autopsies looked fairly amateur, so then, not a doctor but possibly a nurse. It could be a med student, trying to find out how the human clock ticks while its still ticking. It hardly looks like revenge because these people have nothing in common. God, these psycho maniacs disgust me. How could someone kill a human being in cold blood?" Carlton was abruptly startled out of his train of thought by a nurse who had brought him his lunch. "Dear, you should rest." she said "You don't want to overexcite yourself." He quickly closed the atlas and accepted the ham sandwich, apple juice and jello she had brought to him.


	4. Chapter 4

_So we've just been hearing Lassie think and he's right, what kind of pyscho could do this? Guess you're going to find out. Also, some Shawn and Gus thrown in because I didn't want to make this chapter too short and this story needs some comic relief_

Contemplation

The killer sat in the shadows of the dark room. He stared at the stainless steel operating table, which he had outfitted with straps right before he had taken his last victim, Sally. "What a pretty last name", he thought. "Sparrow." It was a shame that he wasn't able to save her. In fact, it was a shame that he couldn't save any of the other patients. And he had tried so hard. The shadowy figure sighed and rose from the wooden stool he had been sittting on. He looked down at his hands, bloodied from when he had cleaned the operating table, which now stood shining in the solitary lamp hanging from the ceiling. He slowly walked over to the large sink by the table and began washing the surgical instruments. Afterwards, he took the tools and wiped them down with antiseptic solution. He wanted the tools to be ready for his next patient.

With a sigh, he began to trudge up the stairs and into his bedroom. There, he pulled off his bloodied scrubs and threw them into the trash bag for later incineration. Although he knew that what he was doing was for the good of those people, the police didn't see it that way. It wasn't his fault those people died, he was just trying to help them. He also had a limited supply of anisthetic, so if he wanted it to last, there was no way he could use enough on each patient to knock them out for surgery. He had to just give them enough so they wouldn't feel most of the pain. Anyway, they would have thanked him if they had survived. He pulled on one of his favorite plaid shirts and left his house with his volunteer I.D. badge in hand. Guess he would have to go looking for another cancer patient in need.

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><p>"I'm telling you, Gus, when Lassie said to not mess around in his case, what he really meant was that he needed our help. I could psychically sense it" whined Shawn.<p>

"No, Shawn, for the last time, no." Gus firmly replied. "You heard what he said and I don't ever want to know what it feels like to have both my thumbs broken."

"Oh Gus, why must you be scared. You realize that half the fun of being consultants for the SPBD is that we get to mess around with Lassie at least once every case, don't you?"said Shawn in his know-it-all tone.

Gus looked at him and shook his head, "And what's the other half of the fun, getting death threats from him?"

Shawn looked at him with delight,"You finally understand!"

"No Shawn, I was being sarcastic, I certainly don't enjoy messing with Lassiter, mostly because my personal safety is usually at risk."

"I can see where that might be a problem." mused the fake psychic detective ."We wouldn't want your chocolatey awesomeness to be ruined in any way."

"You know that's right." replied Gus. "I wouldn't want to be considered as damaged goods by the ladies because I had poked and prodded the irascible head detective of SBPD one too many times."

"Very well," sighed Shawn as he got up to grab his helmet and the keys to his motorcycle, "I guess I'll just have to go and visit Lassie in the hospital on my own."

"Wait. What?" Gus nearly shouted. "You can't go visit Lassiter, he's undercover! You might alert the killer that he's and undercover cop. And if you do that, Lassiter might actually take up that threat to kill you. As you're best friend, I can't let you do that."

Shawn smiled, knowing that he had completely won. "I guess we can take your Blueberry and we can go to the last crime scene. The hospital that the Sally Robin was at."

"Sparrow, Shawn." sighed Gus, and he got up to get his keys.

"What? Where's the sparrow? Gus?" said the pyschic.

"No, Shawn, I mean the girl. Her name was Sally SPARROW, not Robin."

"I've heard it both ways," muttered Shawn. "Anyway, lets get going before that sparrow you were talking about comes and pecks our eyes out."

"There are NO birds, Shawn, but if we're doing this I'm Rod Taylor."

Shawn sulked, "Dude, that is soooo not cool. You know I can't play Tippi Hedren, she's a woman."

"Oh just embrace your feminine side, I've seen you do it before." stated Gus. "Let's go now, you've really creeped me out with the talk about the psycho birds."

"Fine," said Shawn, though he wasn't willing to let that go.


	5. Chapter 5

_So, I'm trying to be a little more "Shawn and Gus" centric in this chapter. This story needs more silliness, something that Lassie, although I love his character very much, unfortunately cannot give without being completely out of character._

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

As Shawn and Gus were driving towards the hospital, they got a nervous call from Juliet.

"Shawn, Gus, I need you to come to the Jamba Juice on Main Street, as soon as possible." came the anxious voice of Juliet.

"But we were just on our way to investigate the last murder." said Shawn.

"I know, Shawn, but you have to come NOW, it's really important."

Shawn quickly replied when he heard how hysterical she was becoming, "Ok, ok, calm down, Juliet, we'll be there."

"Gus, turn around, we're going to the Jamba Juice on Main Street." ordered Shawn.

"But Shawn" complained Gus, "We're nearly at the hospital. I told you, this isn't a taxi that you can use whenever you want.

"Go, Gus," demanded Shawn. "It's Juliet and she sounded really nervous about something. We can't just ignore her. I've never heard her so scared."

"Fine, Shawn, we can go, but only because it's Juliet."Gus replied.

"What's that supposed to mean? 'because it's Juliet'?" said Shawn indignantly. "Are you saying that you wouldn't respond to a frantic text or call if it was me?"

"No Shawn, I wouldn't." Gus steadfastly replied. "First of all, it I did get some sort of message like that from you, it would be you either trying to mess with me or trying to get me to help you out on a case. Secondly, if you sent me a text, I would automatically assume that whatever your problem was, that it wasn't serious enough that you would need to call me."

Shawn looked at Gus with dismay. "Seriously, dude, SERIOUSLY? What if I was hiding out from a band of international smugglers and I needed you, buddy? What if they were in the same room as me and the only way I could contact you was by text? What then?"

Gus sighed, "Shawn, we need to drop the subject. Also, it is highly unlikely that will ever happen to you."

"Don't be too sure Gus," pouted Shawn. "International smugglers are a dime a dozen here in Santa Barbara."

"Just drop it!" exclaimed Gus. "We're here at the Jamba Juice."

"Sweet!" exclaimed the faux-psychic. "Just what I need, a pineapple delight smoothie to take my mind off the fact that my best friend just admitted he would ignore my cry of help."

Gus just sighed and got out of the car. "Come on, let's go find out what Juliet was so worried about."

Juliet sat at one of the plastic tables inside the Jamba Juice Shop. She paid no attention to the strawberry-rasberry smoothie sitting in front her, and instead she tapped her pencil nervously on the case file that she was holding. When she saw Shawn and Gus walk into the store, she let out a sigh of relief and ran up to greet them.

"Thank goodness you guys are hear." said Juliet "Come on over to the table, we have to talk. It's about the case."

"First of all, Juliet, of course we came. I heard your sweet voice on the phone and was instantly drawn here." Shawn kept talking as Juliet tried to interrupt him. "I would further more like to say that if you are going to berate or warn us about staying away from the case, we so far have not been involved. Lastly, if we are going to talk, I will first need a pineapple smoothie. My feelings were recently hurt by a dear friend of mine, and I feel that the only way this grief will not overwhelm me is if I indulge myself in pineapple smoothie heaven."

"I appreciate your need for a pineapple smoothie" replied Juliet. "But this issue is time-sensitive so I took the liberty of ordering it before you came. Gus, there's one for you too. Now, come on, it is essential that we talk."

Gus nodded his thanks to Juliet as they approached the table she had been sitting at before, and Shawn looked at her, then at the smoothies, and said happily, "Oh, Juliet, you know me so well. Like I know the back of my hand. Or perhaps that's not a good metaphor. I actually don't know the back of my hand very well. For instance there are several moles..."

He was cut off by Juliet in mid-sentence. "Look Shawn, I know you like to talk and all, but right now you just have to listen. It's about Lassiter. I'm really worried about him because he's undercover. You know about the case, you've "divined" enough about it, I'm sure. That means you know how good this killer is. He always kidnaps his victims just when he knows the guard shift is changing, and he can get in and out unnoticed. He's so good that he can make it look like they checked out on their own, so that no one suspects they are missing until a day or two after the kidnapping, which is when the bodies are usually found. No one hears anything from the people he kidnaps, no demands, ransom notes or phone calls, until the body is found. Since he is escalating, we don't know how long we have till he takes another victim, and for all we know he could be targeting someone else, and that someone could be Lassiter. Shawn, Gus, I know that technically you are not on the case, but I really would like you to look in to it. You guys wouldn't be very noticeable at any of the crime scenes, so it wouldn't cause too much suspicion. I know Carlton explicitly told you not to work on the case, but I am really worried about him. I just feel he's going out of his way to prove himself after he failed to stop that last serial killer from killing that 3rd woman."

Shawn remembered that gruesome case, where the killer was using the victim's hair to spell out messages which he then sent to the SPBD right before he killed the girls. These killings took place over a series of months and by the time they had figured out who the killer was, thanks to Shawn and Gus, they arrived at his home to save the last girl, only to find that they were too late. Since Lassiter had taken lead on that case, he felt guilty about that last death, and how he could have stopped it if he had been there half an hour earlier.

"Of course we will help." replied Shawn. "How could we refuse to help our dashing Head Detective, even if he wasn't asking for the help."

As Shawn got up to leave, Juliet stopped him. "Wait, here's a copy of the case file. I thought you might need it. Just do what you can with it. I'm really counting on you Shawn to make sure that Lassiter gets through this alright. He may be the best detective I know, but he is currently trying to catch the killer while simultaneously playing a cancer patient. I just want to make sure we get all the help we can, even if it's from someone who he really doesn't like."

"That's surprising." said Shawn. "I really thought that we had grown on Lassie these past years."

"From how he treats us, it seems we're more of a parasite growing on him that he can't get rid of" replied the ever-insightful Gus. "Now let's go back to that hospital and see if we can find anything new on our bad guy."

"Fine, but we need to make a short stop first." said Shawn, as he climbed into Gus's blueberry with his pineapple smoothie in hand.

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><p><em>I realize that these chapters are kind of short, in the future I will make them longer. Please, read, comment and review. What needs work, what sort of things should happen and of course, compliments are <strong>GOLD<strong>. Thanks very much. I'll try to be, at the very least, weekly in my updates. After all, I want this to be good._


	6. Chapter 6

_So, this took me longer to update, but with finals coming up and a bunch of other commitments, it was really hard to find time. Plus, I wanted to make this longer than any of the other chapters. I feel that, story wise, I've holding out on you guys. Its time some relationships, action and adventure. Maybe not all three at the same time, but they will come._

_So, just to remind you guys, I don't own Psych-related stuff. Plus, tiny spoiler for the episode "Dead Bear Walking" _

**Visitors And A Pineapple**

"Mr. Smith," Carlton heard the soft voice of the nurse calling to him. "Jacob Smith, you have some visitors."

For a moment Carlton was confused, "Who was Jacob Smith?" he thought. Then he remembered that it was his fake name, and he quickly recovered; however, in moments, he was back to a feeling of confusion. Why would he be having visitors? Maybe the chief sent in some plainclothes detectives so it didn't seem too suspicious that Jacob Smith, who was terminally ill, had no family or friends visiting him. Though, Carlton reflected, if it had really been him in the hospital, he doubted anyone would have come to visit. He was shaken out of his train of thought when he heard that familiar obnoxious voice.

"Lass..."Shawn broke of in mid-word, quickly observing Carlton's undercover name on the patient clipboard at the foot of his bed, and quickly caught himself, "Jakey, my big bro, Jakey Smith. Oh, how nice it is to see you."

The nurse looked surprised "I didn't read anything in the file about you having a brother, Jacob."

" Umm... I don't" replied Carlton, trying to hide the extreme anger in his voice. "He's just.."

Shawn cut him off. "Well, legally speaking, we're not brothers, but Jakey here helped me through some rough times when I was a teen. I was into some pretty bad stuff, but Jakey was there to pull me out of it, and so here I am today, helping him pull through his problems. We do consider ourselves to be brothers, in every way but blood. Oh yes, and this is my friend" Shawn introduced Gus. "Zechariah Frinth. He too, was helped greatly by our friend here."

Carlton spoke in slow, precise words. "Thank you, nurse. Could you please give us some privacy now?"

The bustling nurse smiled happily, unaware that the detective was steaming. "Very well dear, I'll go get your medication. And you boys, don't stress out Jacob here too much. He needs his rest."

As soon as the nurse was out of earshot, Carlton gave the two consultants a look that could melt glass. "What the hell are you doing here," he said tightly as he attempted to keep the volume of his voice at a decent level. "I gave expressive orders for you NOT to be involved in this case."

"Who said anything about being involved in the case?" innocently spoke the psychic. "We were simply stopping by to pay our sick friend in the hospital a visit. Plus, don't you think it would look suspicious if a man, dying from terminally ill cancer, would have NO friends? I mean, maybe if it was a creeper, but you're a strong, handsome Irishman with great sternum bush. OF COURSE you would have friends."

Lassiter just looked at the psychic contemptuously, "I don't care why you're here, just GET OUT. I can't risk you blowing my cover. There are women DEAD, Spencer, and I need to stop the bastard who is doing this before he strikes again. Now, unless you have something relative to the case, I suggest you leave, or get thrown out by the hospital staff."

Then he stiffened and began to go into psychic convulsions. "I see something!" he exclaimed.

Carlton muttered under his breath. "Oh, great. I just hope no nurses walk by, he might be hospitalized and then he would be able to come in here and bug me even more."

Shawn continued to throw himself across the room. "Stick! I see a stick! It's not just a stick, it's for walking! It's a walking stick!"

Gus looked at Shawn strangely. "Like the bug?"

Shawn looked at him. "No, Gus, I'm talking about a stick you use to walk with."

"So a staff." said Gus.

"Yes!" Shawn exclaimed. "A staff! And I see more! Creepy-crawly everywhere! Bugs? No, not bugs, but equally as creepy! Reptiles! Lizards? No, but I'm getting cold-blooded. No legs...SNAKE! There's two of them and they're winding up and up and up..."

Gus interrupted him gleefully. "A caduceus! The international sign of medicine!"

Shawn looked at him strangely, "Dude, I get the international sign part, but the cadecumes part I don't get. I'm talking about the stick with the wings that has the two snakes wrapped around it."

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. The winged staff of Hermes, with his two serpents. That's the international sign of medicine. And Shawn, it caduceus, not cadecumes."

"I've heard it both ways." replied the psychic.

Carlton was surprised, considering they hadn't seen the case file, but then he looked at the two impatiently, "So, he's in medicine field. We already guessed that much. Now go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before and stay out of my way!"

Shawn and Gus began walking towards the door. "Ok, we'll stay out of your way," chirped Shawn. "Not that it will be that hard, considering you are confined to this room." He reached the doorway, and just as he left he turned around and said, seriously, "Lassie, be careful. Juliet wanted me to tell you that she's worried...and she says HI!" Shawn was back to his usual chirpy self in a second and ran down the hallway.

Lassiter sat for a moment, contemplating what Shawn had said. "O'Hara really wanted him to be careful? He never realized the sort of bond they had formed over the years of working together. He would have called her the younger sister he never had, except that he did have a younger sister."

Once again the nurse interrupted his thoughts with a cheery "Hello". "Damn," he thought before he turned his attention to her. "Do the people at this place even understand the concept of knocking?"

"So Mr. Smith, are you planning on cutting up that pineapple that your nice friends left for you."

Carlton looked at the table in front of him, startled. There, unnoticed to him at first, lay a pineapple undoubtedly brought by that nuisance who had dared to call himself a detective.

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After Shawn climbed back into the Blueberry, he turned to Gus and said, "Well, that went better than expected."

"What are you talking about Shawn." fumed Gus, who had been silent most of the time that they had been in there because he was mad at Shawn for making him come there. "You got us in even MORE trouble that we were in with Lassiter before. We'll be lucky if we escape with our lives after this case. I felt his eyes burning holes through me!"

"Relax, Gus," replied the calm psychic. "We'll solve this case, get the bad guy and no one will get hurt. Lassiter will have to love us again."

"Shawn, he never loved us." said Gus. "I'm just hoping he'll stop wanting to hurt us, that's all."

"Well, thanks to Lassie, we know that they are following the medical lead. Which gives us more time to investigate the drug part of the case. We need to find records of that drug, you know, the one that the coroner mentioned, some sort of Indian food?"

"Curare, Shawn," stated the exasperated Gus. "It's a drug that paralyzes the patient, or victim in our case, but allows them to stay awake at the same time. Honestly, what is the point of having an eidetic memory if you only remember certain things?"

"Look Gus, that's not important. What's important is how you always know all these things. You worry me sometimes, buddy."

"Shawn, the only reason I know this is because, if you remember, I have a REAL job. One that involves pharmaceutical sales. One that I need to be doing right now, if I want to keep living in my apartment."

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"So, Mr. Jones, is there any particular reason why you want to work at this hospital as an oncologist?" asked the Dean of the Hospital as he looked at the sitting across from him. "There are many other hospitals, far more qualified than we are that would be happy to accept you, with your credentials."

"I just felt like this was the right hospital." replied the man, smoothing a slight wrinkle on his shirt. "Also, if you don't mind, I would like to take a look around this place. I like to get a feel for a potential workplace."

"Of course, Mr. Jones, as soon as we are done with the interview, I will have a security guard give you a tour. I'm sorry that it can't be one of our own hospital staff. Sunday nights are the most hectic at the hospital. Frankly, I'm surprised that you came in for the interview today. My secretary didn't think that this would be the only day you could have an interview. Do you have any family, a partner, anyone?"

"No, miss, it's just me and my work. I take pride in being the best I can be." said Mr. Jones.

"Well, you certainly succeeded. I am quite impressed with your achievements. Top student in your graduating class at Harvard? That really is something. Those sort of people tend to end up working at the hospitals in the big cities. The respect you would get there would be great, and the money isn't too bad either."

"Well, miss, I know that, but seeing as Santa Barbara's where I grew up, I really would like to work here. And, this hospital is as good as any. Money isn't important to me, all I want is to help those patients who have cancer. My mother would have wanted me to. She passed away last month from a malignant tumor on her liver that the doctors couldn't remove. It was right after I graduated from school and I couldn't do anything to save her

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><p><em>Despite what anyone is thinking, there will be NO Shassie. At least not for this story. Any relationship formed between Shawn and Lassiter will be one of friendship, or on Lassiter's part, a relationship of tolerance. Thanks to <strong>xpsychxssjs<strong> you might expect some Shules in this story, later on. I'm not telling you when right now, mostly because I'm not really sure myself._

_Also, I actually don't have any idea how this drug works, or even if people use it today, so I may be somewhat inaccurate while telling how it is used. But remember, this is a STORY, and I'm not trying to make money off of it or anything. This is purely for my own pleasure and I don't want to stress out over the details, so PLEASE don't criticize me on facts that I get wrong._

__Well, that's all I have to say. I 3 reviews, remember that, and if you want the story to go on more quickly, reviews power my little typing fingers._  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Just some insight on the killer._

_No spoilers._

**_Disclaimer_**_: Don't own Psych, or any of the characters, yada yada yada. You know what I mean._

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><p>"So, Mr. Jones, is there any particular reason why you want to work at this hospital as an oncologist?" asked the Dean of the Hospital as he looked at the sitting across from him. "There are many other hospitals, far more qualified than we are that would be happy to accept you, with your credentials."<p>

"I just felt like this was the right hospital." replied the man, smoothing a slight wrinkle on his shirt. "Also, if you don't mind, I would like to take a look around this place. I like to get a feel for a potential workplace."

"Of course, Mr. Jones, as soon as we are done with the interview, I will have a security guard give you a tour. I'm sorry that it can't be one of our own hospital staff. Sunday nights are the most hectic at the hospital. Frankly, I'm surprised that you came in for the interview today. My secretary didn't think that this would be the only day you could have an interview. Do you have any family, a partner, anyone?"

"No, miss, it's just me and my work. I take pride in being the best I can be." said Mr. Jones.

"Well, you certainly succeeded. I am quite impressed with your achievements. Top student in your graduating class at Harvard? That really is something. Those sort of people tend to end up working at the hospitals in the big cities. The respect you would get there would be great, and the money isn't too bad either."

"Well, miss, I know that, but seeing as Santa Barbara's where I grew up, I really would like to work here. And, this hospital is as good as any. Money isn't important to me, all I want is to help those patients who have cancer. My mother would have wanted me to. She passed away last month from a malignant tumor on her liver that the doctors couldn't remove. It was right after I graduated from school and I couldn't do anything to save her or even make her last days a little easier. You see, we couldn't afford the medical care in any of the larger hospitals so we had to settle for smaller, less competent hospitals with fewer doctors. She never really got the treatments she needed. And now I want to help those people who can't afford the good treatment by being the best I can be, but also affordable."

The dead looked a little shocked by his confession. She wasn't expecting the reason for him choosing that particular hospital was so intense. She adjusted her glasses as she once more looked down at his papers. "Well, Mr. Jones, I'm not supposed to say this to any of the applicants, but I do think you will get the job. Just e-mail the rest of your papers to me next week, and you can start by the end of the month. Now about that tour. I'll call Steve, our security guard on duty, and he'll explain to you how we work her." She picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a minute of talking, she put the phone back onto the receiver and looked at Mr. Jones. "He'll be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you, miss." replied Mr. Jones. He stood up, brushed off his suit and extended his hand. "Thank you for everything."

As the dean graciously accepted his handshake, she looked him in the eyes and said "No, it is I who should be saying thank you. You're giving this hospital a great advantage by coming to work here. And, I am truly sorry for you're loss." They held each other's gazes for a few seconds, but the dean quickly looked away. As soon as she had mentioned his loss, a look had come into his eyes, outrage, which quickly passed. It was almost as though he had been wearing a mask the whole interview and then, suddenly he had let it slip, for a fraction of a second.

A knock on the door signified the arrival of the security guard, Steve. The dean let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. She had begun to feel uncomfortable being in the presence of this man. He had been fixing her with a stare, one that was boring into her very soul.

A man with sandy hair stuck his head into the room. "Excuse me, miss, I'm here to show a Mr. Jones around."

"Oh, good, you're here, Steven. This is Mr. Jones." She gestured to the immaculetely dressed man. "Please, show him around and answer any questions he has."

"Of course, miss," replied the security guard. He opened the door and motioned to Mr. Jones. "This way sir."

Mr. Jones nodded and followed Steve out of the office. As the door shut behind him, the dean sighed, and turned back to her desk, where a mound of papers awaited her. As she shuffled through the various papers that required her signature, she thought about the man, Mr. Jones. She dismissed what she had seen earlier in his eyes. _Just her imagination_, was what she tried to convince herself to believe. _Something that I thought was there but wasn't. _Giving no further thought to the matter, except that she would have to add him to the payroll within the month, the Dean continued with her duties.

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Steven was uncomfortable. Only a few minutes in the man's presence was causing chills to run down his spine. It wasn't just that he didn't talk AT ALL, that was a little unnerving however, but the way Steven constantly found him staring at Steven. He had led Mr. Jones through the first level of the hospital, showing him where the drugs were prescribed, where the patients waited to be seen. The entire time, Mr. Jones didn't say anything, he just looked at Steven. Then, Steven took him up to the second floor, the oncology level, and that was where things started to get weird.

It was like Mr. Jones had finally gotten the cat to metaphorically release his tongue. He was full of all sorts of questions, about the patients, the staff, the security hours. When Steven asked why he needed to know the secutiry hours, the man merely smiled and said he wanted to make sure that these patients were well protected. Steven smiled proudly and told Mr. Jones how they changed the security detail every week so that someone couldn't begin to predict them.

"Ahh," came Mr. Jones soft voice. "So, pray tell, what is this week's security detail."

Steven replied, "Well, this week, sir, the security guards switch 3 times a day. Once at 3 am, once at 11 am and the once at 7 pm. I've got the shift till 7 pm."

To this Mr. Jones smiled. "I do believe I have seen quite enough. Thank you for informing me of this hospital. I do hope that I will work here some day." With those words, the mysterious Mr. Jones walked out of the room, his plan already unfolding in his mind.

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Several days passed, and the dean of the hospital never got those papers from Mr. Jones. She thought nothing of the fact that he bailed out. Even after really good interviews, sometimes they would back out, for no reason. It wasn't something that was too uncommon, so she paid no attention to it. Besides, she had a lot more to worry about since one of her patients, a Mr. Jacob Smith, had disappeared from the hospital without a trace, the same as all of the other victims.

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><p><em>DUN DUN DUN. Lassie is missing. *GASP*. Oh, well you should have seen that coming. It wouldn't be too interesting if nothing happened to any of the main characters. WARNING: There will be Lassie bashing coming up so if you don't want that, stop reading NOW.<em>

_So it turned out to be a lot longer than I expected. Turns out that describing the motives and means for a killer is actually a lot more time-consuming than I thought. Plus, I'm not a PSYCHOPATH, so it takes me some time to think these things up._


	8. Chapter 8

_Spoilers: Slight reference to "Shawn and Gus of the Dead"_

**_Disclaimer:_** _Don't own Shawn, Gus, Lassie or any part of Psych. Those rights go entirely to USA network. Keep up the good work!_

_Lassie is missing. How will our characters react?_

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

"What do you mean 'he just disappeared?' I gave you explicit orders to increase the security at that hospital. You can't tell me that no one saw him leaving!" Chief Karen Vick was furious. She really hadn't wanted to let Detective Lassiter go undercover on that job. It had seemed to dangerous, but with the FBI closing in, she needed to have that case solved. Now, her head detective was gone and they had a day or two at the most before he would become the next victim to this mystery killer. She slammed the phone down after giving the head of security firm orders of sending ALL camera footage of that night to the SBPD and leaned her head back against the back of the chair.

There was a knock at her door. She looked up to see Detective O'Hara standing timidly outside the door. Vick raised a tired hand and motioned for the young detective to come in.

"Chief Vick, is it true?" she asked, her worry clearly in her eyes. "Is Carlton really missing?"

Vick was surprised at the blonde detectives use of the Head Detectives first name. Even though they had been partners for over two years, she had never heard her refer to him as anything other than Lassiter, or Head Detective. She must have been really worried.

"I'm afraid that he is, Detective O'Hara." replied Vick. "He went missing last night as the guards were changing shifts. We still don't know how he knew when it was, but somehow he managed to get in and take Detective Lassiter without so much as a struggle."

"I see," said Juliet, trying to remain composed. She was afraid that something like this was bound to happen and now that she had, she didn't know what to do. "I'll be going to check out the crime scene now."

"O'Hara," said Chief Vick in a kind voice. "You know the rules. You are too emotionally invested in this case to continue. I'll have to give up the lead to one of the other officers. Go home, relax. We'll find Lassiter."

Juliet shook her head. "With all due respect Chief, I will not back down from this case. When Lassiter was kidnapped, it left me the point on the case and I will not relinquish that position. I can't just go home and relax while my partner lies somewhere, being prepared to be killed. What kind of person would that make me. I need to be out there, in charge of the case and taking action. I've been on this case with Carlton since the beginning and I know everything there is to know. Giving up the case to someone else would mean lsoing time while they were briefed about it and time isn't something that we have. And if you do choose to take me off this case, you know it won't stop me from investigating. I'm sure you'd rather I do it with the department behind my back."

Vick was slightly shocked. Never had O'Hara so openly disagreed with her. That was Lassiter's job, but as Chief Vick thought about it, she began to see the points that the young detective was making. True, it would take time to debrief someone on the matters of this case and it was true that they wouldn't have time to do this. And Vick didn't want to lose another great detective simply because she went investigating without any sort of backup.

"Alright, O'Hara," she grudgingly replied. "You can stay point on this case, but if I see you are becoming too emotional in your decisions, I will take the case away from you."

Juliet brightened, and nodded, but contained the relief she was feeling from showing on her face. She had been really worried about being kicked off the case.

"With your permission then, Chief, I would like to hire Shawn and Gus for the case." As the Chief began to shake her head, Juliet kept talking. "You know, and I know, that they've been extremely invaluable in the past. They've closed all of our cases that they have worked on in the past, even though some of their methods may have been slightly unorthodox. And they are really good in tough cases that have been time sensitive. We need all the help we can get."

Once again, Juliet had been openly against the Chief's wishes, and once again, she had a good point. "Very well, call Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster and have them meet you at the crime scene." Juliet stood there for a few more seconds. "Well go now. You said it yourself, we have no time to waste." Juliet nodded, then quickly turned and walked out of the Chief's office, closing the door behind her.

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"Shawn, stop flicking pencils at me!" exclaimed Gus as he was typing on his computer. "I need to finish my monthly sales report and it's due tomorrow! We've been so busy with cases this past week, you haven't given me any time to do this report."

The two best friends were sitting in the Psych office, waiting for a phone call from Juliet. She had said the day before that she would call later to give them any new files on the case to see if they could help with the case any more. But Shawn, being the child that he was, didn't like waiting for more than 30 minutes on new updates and now he was using his boredom as an excuse to annoy Gus.

"But Gus," he whined. "There's nothing to do. You won't let me turn on the television or play trash can basketball."

"That's because those two things are annoying. Just sit still for a few more minutes and let me finish my report and send it in."

"But what then? You're going to make Juliet magically call us? You're going to get our cable back? Are there going to be unicorns involved?" asked Shawn.

"No," said Gus. "I'll plug the phone back in." He held up the wire that gave power to the Psych office phone. "I took it out so we wouldn't get anymore calls while I was trying to finish up my report. Which," he said as he triumphantly clicked his mouse one last time. "I have just done." He bent over and plugged the phone cord back into the outlet. "Now, Juliet can actually call his."

True to his word, the Pysch office phone rang within a minute of him plugging it in. Gus dove for the phone, but Shawn got there first. "Shawn Spencer, resident psychic speaking. I sensed you were calling. How may I help you?" He asked in a mysterious voice.

As he had dived for the phone, Shawn had inadvertantly pressed the speaker button, so her voice blared out unexpectedly at him and he nearly dropped the phone.

"Shawn," she said. "You and Gus need to get down to the Lassiter's hospital right now. He's gone missing."

Both Gus and Shawn stared at each other in shocked silence. Detective Lassiter, missing?

"We'll be right there, Juliet, don't worry." said Gus as he grabbed his phone, jacket and car keys. "Come on, Shawn. We need to get down to the crime scene now."

"Yeah Jules, we'll be there as soon as possible." Shawn told the phone as he ran out of the Psych office.

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At the crime scene, Shawn was immensely relieved to not find any blood. Of course, he didn't need to worry, the killer had never left blood before, but nonetheless, it calmed him a little. Immediately, he noticed the unplugged clock by the bedside, reading 1:13 as the stuck time. The plug must have been pulled during the brief silent struggly between the killer and Lassiter.

Scuff marks, on the floor. From Lassiter's shoes. The killer had dressed the unconscious man and then dragged him out. Meaning he wasn't the same size or bigger than Carlton. Or the he was a she. But most women preferred poison to chosen method of murder, dissection just wasn't their thing. _Wait,_ Shawn paused after his latest observation. _The scuff marks. The killer must have dragged Lassiter until he got a more convenient means of transportation. Or until he left the building. _

"I'm sensing-" Shawn voiced aloud, causing Juliet, Gus and the rest of the forensics team to turn towards him. "I'm sensing the killer went that way with our dear detective." He spastically lunged towards the doorway, then quickly scanned the area for the telltale marks. Down the hallway to his right. Flipping about, after all he was having a strange vision, Shawn made his way through the hospital, twisting and turning at every scuff mark. Finally, he reached the emergency exit where he stumbled into the broad daylight.

"My eyes!" he screeched dramatically. "But wait, am I wearing sunglasses. Why is the killer wearing sunglasses?"

Behing him, Shawn heard Gus explain. "He's channeling what the kidnapper was seeing as he took Lassiter."

"Not sunglasses, it is night. The kidnapper took our Lassie at night."

"That's great Shawn, but we already know that. He was taken at the changing, why is that important."

"Because, Jules, not only could the killer not see, he did not want to be seen." replied Shawn. "Oh, the spirits are calling me, to the security booth!" He began to run back inside the hospital, then turned. "Umm, where is the security booth?"

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After leading Shawn to the security booth, Juliet and Gus situated themselves so that they could clearly see the screens

"Well this much more comfortable than that room at the museum, wouldn't you say so Gus?"

"I would have to agree, Shawn." said Gus.

"Look Shawn, don't mean to be a bother, but could you hurry it up with the small talk. We are on a really tight schedule here." said Juliet exasperatedly.

"Of course, Jules, whatever you say. But you should know, the spirits cannot always be rushed." said Shawn in his most mystical voice.

"Just give me what you got." she said impatiently. Juliet was not about to lose her partner.

"Well, first I need you to pull up the footage around the time of the kidnapping." said Shawn to the burly security guard who had escorted them. The man did just that.

"Ok then." said Shawn as he examined the screen for details. "The spirits are telling me to look at the fifth turn past Lassie's room towards the loading bay. They tell me the killer wouldn't have been able to escape being caught on camera at that specific place. And you can bet there's a good reason why the killer doesn't want us to see him."

"Because then we would know who he was?" asked Gus. Of course, that would be an obvious reason for someone to avoid security cameras.

Shawn was watching the guard typing in the footage time. "No Gus, our kidnapper was obviously wearing something that covered his face. It would stupid of him not to. But there's something else. A distinguishing characteristic that he wouldn't be able to hide with clothing."

"Like a limp!" piped up Juliet.

"Precisely, my Jules." said Shawn.

"My?" asked Juliet skeptically.

"Oh, sorry about that. I uhh-" he trailed off. Shawn Spencer had been made speechless.

Luckily, the awkward silence did not ensue for very long, because right then the security guard informed them that Shawn was in fact right. The kidnapper had appeared, for ten seconds on the footage as he dragged a full-clothed, unconscious Detective Carlton Lassiter through the hallway. And the limp was visible as the masked man walked quickly, obviously trying to avoid being seen. Shawn's eyes flashed across the screen, as he tried to get in information. Judging from the man relative to Lassiter, he looked about 6'1". Probably about 180 pounds. On the black and white footage, it was impossible to clearly see the color of the stray hairs escaping the mans tight hat, but from what Shawn could see, it looked blonde. Black working boots on his feet, with mud. Probably what caused the stains on the floor. They looked extremely worn, meaning the man probably had a day job as some sort of a laborer.

Suddenly, Shawn's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of Juliet's phone. She answered it, then listened and replied with a few short words. After she snapped it shut, she looked at Shawn and Gus, worry in her eyes.

"The crime scene guys found something in the main lobby. They said we should come check it out." said Juliet.

"Well, I'd love to come, but to be honest, I'm way behind on my routes. I really need to catch up on my regular work so I'll be free later if any new developments come up in Detective Lassiter's case." said Gus.

"Of course," said Juilet. "I understand. We'll keep you posted."

"Really, Gus? You're going to abandon me now?" asked Shawn.

"You know I've been putting my work off to help you with this case. I've got to keep my day job to help pay for Psych. So, if you'll excuse me, I have to go." With that, Gus turned around and walked back to where his car was parked. "Catch a ride with Juliet." he called over his shoulder.

As Juliet and Shawn began walking towards the main hospital lobby, Juliet suddenly spoke. "So what was that about calling me yours?" she asked.

"Well, um, I already said sorry," stumbled Shawn. He was clearly uncomfortable, unheard of when it came to the audacious flirt.

"Not that I mind," she smiled. "I usually prefer it if someone buys me dinner before they start acting like I belong to them."

"Will you have dinner with me then?" asked Shawn. "I mean, after this is all over."

"What?" said Juliet, surprised. She hadn't expected him to take it seriously.

"Have dinner, with me, like a date." said Shawn. "After we've found Lassie and all of course. We wouldn't really have the time right now."

"I'd love that, Shawn," smiled Juliet.

At last, they had reached the main lobby. A crime scene guy walked up to them, with a book in hand. When they saw it, they realized it was the folder that kept record of the patient's being checked out. Of course, Lassiter's name was written the list, but when they saw who was written as the person who had checked them out, both Shawn and Juliet gasped. In capital, bold letters, there were the words Santa Barbara Police Department written where the name of the person checking out the patient should be.

"He knows who Lassiter is," said Juliet in the stunned silence.

"What does that mean for Lassie?" asked Shawn, in a grave voice.

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><p><em>Tried a cliffhanger here. Hope you liked it :). Sorry about the time it took me to update. MAJOR writer's block. But I'll try to be more frequent. <em>

_So I managed some Shules. Exciting, I know. Don't worry, we'll see some darling Lassie next chapter. Till then, Read and Review( I kinda need some more reviews to keep me going so please help fuel this little writers machine) Concrit is appreciated!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry about the long update time, really I am. I've been having a writer's block of sorts, and the lack of reviews for this story have been very uninspiring. I do, however thank Pineapple2000 for reviewing. Thank you so much, and I am VERY sorry about the long time in between updates. Like I said, completely uninspired to do anything. Anyway, this is a short chapter, but I felt I had to post something since I hadn't posted in a while. I didn't want to completely abandon the story._

_**Spoilers:** None_

_**Disclaimer:** Don't own Psych, never had, never will. Well, maybe I will someday. All part of my plan for global domination._

**_Warning_**_: Lassie-whumpage in this chapter. Nothing to dramatic, just a warning. I like to abuse characters in my stories if I really like them. Is that weird? Wait, don't answer that. Or do, if you want to. I don't really care._

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><p>Chapter 9<p>

When Carlton first came to, the first thing he realized was that he was tied to a cold metal operating table, and he couldn't move. The couldn't move part took precedent in his brain as he struggled to move even one muscle. However, it seemed that none of his appendages were working.

Carlton tried to think about the events that had led him up to this situation. He had been in a hospital... Was he hurt or injured? No, he recalled, he was undercover, pretending to have an inoperable tumor to catch a serial killer who had been performing surgeries on his victims. Then he winced. Of course, the serial killer must have claimed him as his next victim.

He vaguely remembered the last images he had seen before lapsing into unconsciousness. A tall, dark figure approaching his bedside. Naturally, Carlton had been suspicious. Four years in the police academy had taught him to be exceedingly cautious while undercover, this case was no different. He had lain there, waiting for the man to make his move, while fingering the gun stashed under his pillow. But it had happened so quick, and Carlton wasn't expecting him to move like that. And then the chloroform, which, in hindsight, Carlton probably should have expected. After all, the murderer had to subdue his victim's somehow.

"So, Detective, I see your awake," said a disembodied voice.

Carlton jolted out of his stupor, moving his eyes wildly around the room to see where the voice was coming from; however, he couldn't move his head so he was forced to be kept in the dark about the visual identity of his kidnapper.

Crap, he realized. He knows I'm a detective. But then, why did he take me? Surely he knows they'll be looking for me even harder. Maybe's he's not worried about getting caught because he knows he won't. Carlton shuddered at the thought, well tried to shudder. His paralyzed body wouldn't let him move at all. But Detective O'Hara will find me, I'm sure of it. Plus, she has Spencer on her side and as much as I hate to admit it, he's my best chance.

"Detective Carlton Lassiter," purred the voice once more. Suddenly, Carlton found himself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes. The man was now standing over him, a maniacal grin plastered on his face, like only a psychopath could accomplish. His face was covered with a medical mask, as a matter of fact, he was in full surgery uniform from what Carlton could see. "Or more precisely, Head Detective Carlton Lassiter? You've been trouble for my plans. Trying to catch me by going undercover? But I saw through your story. I've been following the case closely, and I know who you are. And now, for slowing me down in my attempt to help people, you will pay. I will make you useful. All my previous patients have been suffering from some sort of cancer, so their bodies were weak, unclean. But you are a strong, healthy specimen. I've seen your true medical records, and save for your recent flu, you've been healthy. Top in your physical exams for the police department. You will indeed be an interesting specimen."

Carlton looked at the man with as much disgust as he could muster, and it was quite a challenge considering his face muscles were mostly paralyzed. But as he tried harder, he realized that with some effort, he could speak.

"Why would you do this?" he rasped out, as the drug began to wear off. "Why are you killing these innocent people?"

"Oh, I'm not killing them, I'm trying to help." said the man. "They're going to die without getting their various cancers removed, I'm just giving them a chance to live. Sadly, most of the tumors are extremely hard to remove without killing the patient, but I do my best."

"But why are they conscious when you do it?" whispered Carlton. "Why put them through the trauma?"

"Ah yes, sadly, that cannot be avoided," said the man in a tone that sounded close to regret. "Curare is the only drug I can get on a short notice that's cheap enough. Everything else requires more money, or provides less discretion. This drug I can buy in bulk and it is untraceable."

"You know, you will get caught," said Carlton. "And the punishment for kidnapping an officer of the law will be much harsher. If you just let me take you in, we can work out some kind of a deal."

The man's features, or what Carlton could see, hardened. "You think I'm a fool, Detective? I know what the plea will be in order for me not to get the death penalty. Insanity plea. And I'll have to cooped up in some asylum. I'm nor crazy, Head Detective, I'm trying to help these people. Furthermore, I won't be able to continue my experiments if you arrest me, and I can't have that."

Carlton was hardly listening. He had slowly regained feeling in his fingers and wiggled them slightly, praying that the man wouldn't notice.

"Well then, why are you doing this, I mean, what started it?" asked Carlton, desperate for time. He needed to regain feeling, and fast, and he couldn't have the man operating on him anytime soon. He needed to buy his partner and Spencer time.

"My mother," answered the man, mournfully. "She died of an inoperable tumor, but she could have been saved. It wasn't that inoperable, she would have had a chance if they operated, but they refused. Said they didn't want a lawsuit, they said there was a 75% chance that she wouldn't make it and that was too big a risk. I didn't care, I wanted them to operate, but it was no use. Then, I tried to operate, I was a surgeon then, but they wouldn't let me. They said I was too emotionally invested to be able to make any judgements with a clear head. I just want to give other people the chance my mother was denied. A chance to live."

"So you kill them," stated Carlton. He knew he was repeating himself, but he didn't care. Feeling was spreading all throughout his body and it was all he could do to stop his body from twitching as it was able to move again. He slightly clenched his fist, so the man wouldn't see, and was surprised at how easy the action was. Now, if only he could get the man to leave the room for a little bit, the straps were not too tightly fastened.

Just then, it seemed as though his prayers were answered. The kidnapper looked at the IV drip attached to Carlton's arm.

"Looks like we've run out of curare. I'll pop upstairs to get some more. You be good," he laughed, in a creepy, crazy-person kind of way, as he turned away and walked out of Carlton's line of vision. Carlton waited with bated breath for the telltale open and shut of the door.

When he heard it, the detective immediately got to work. He pulled as hard as he could at the wrist-straps. They were not on too tight and after a bit of painful struggling, he was able to loosed them enough and slip his hands free. He then sat up, but was forced to steady himself on the table as the blood began to move inside his body. After shaking away the spots that appeared in his vision, he moved to untie the straps on his feet. His movements were slow and sluggish, most of the drug was still in his system. He slowly swung his legs off the table and leaned against it for support as he attempted to stand. Nearly falling, he managed to tighten his grip on the autopsy table. Putting his bare feet against the cold tile floor gave him the feeling on pins and needles, like someone would get after trying to walk on a foot that had fallen asleep.

As his head was clearing of the muddled thoughts, he began to look about the room. It was dimly lit on the outskirts, the only source of light being the bright surgical light that hung over where he had been laying.

A phone, he thought. I need a phone. And a gun, but I doubt that's going to happen.

He stumbled towards a cluttered looking desk in the corner, shifting through the various junk, looking for a knife, gun, anything to defend himself until he could contact the SPBD. Finding a rusty old fishing knife, he grabbed it and stumbled over to the door as he heard the footsteps of his kidnapper descending the stairs.

He readied himself with his knife, and the moment the door opened and the man walked in, he jumped behind him and grabbed him in a chokehold, knife at his neck.

"Detective Lassiter," rasped the kidnapper. "I was not expecting this. I guess the hospital records I hacked were wrong. Surprising to see you get over the drugs so quickly."

"Yeah, well I've always been a fast healer," snarled the detective.

"I can see that now," replied the kidnapper.

"Now get me to a phone and tell me where we are," said the detective, his grip tightening around the man's neck.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," said the kidnapper, smiling slightly, although Carlton couldn't see. Then with a swift movement, he grabbed Carlton's arms with his hands and flipped the detective over his back. As Carlton lay gasping on the floor, he saw the man look at him, an ugly smile appearing on his face a dangerous glint in his eyes. There was a thin red line from where the knife had been pressed.

"You forced my hand detective," he said. "I had wished you would be more cooperative, but now I see you won't. I'll have to do something to you that will be permanently incapacitate you."

Then he pulled a gun from his belt. _My gun, damn it,_ cursed Carlton.

"I've always wanted to operate on a patient with a bullet wound. Now where shall it go? Shoulder? Chest? Oh, I know." he smiled, even more crazily than before. "How about the stomach? Always heard those are the most to bleed. Let's just hope I can patch you up again, ay detective. Doesn't matter for you. Either way, your dead."

"You sick bastard," choked out Carlton. The man just looked at him, smiled, then pulled the trigger.

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><p><em>So, good? bad? You hate me because of this? Please don't. I don't believe in character deaths, not for this show anyway, so I can assure you he will survive. So stop sharpening your pitchforks. And remember, if you want updates faster, good, inspiring reviews!<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_Ahhhh! Really sorry for the long update wait. I'm a horrible person, I know. But just read this, please. I wrote it all at once because I felt really bad for not updating in like a month. But this story is nearing to a close, in case you didn't notice. So here's some non-psycho material(in other words, some Shawn, Gus and Juliet)._

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><p>Chapter 10<p>

After getting over the initial shock of the new knowledge, Juliet promptly had the paper sent for handwriting analysis. Of course, they couldn't be expected to get anywhere, after all no one wrote in capital letters, but it was worth a shot. It gave Juliet something to do besides agonize over her partner's fate.

Then there was Shawn. Oh, he really couldn't have asked her out in a more impromptu moment. She was distressed and distracted enough, the last thing she wanted to do was jump up and down like a school girl because he had finally done what she had been waiting for all these years of knowing him. Sure, Shawn might be obnoxious, childish and Lassiter might hate him (though Lassiter hated a lot of people), but he was funny too, and nice and had clearly been crushing on her for a while now. And it was actually kinda cute how he got all embarrassed from that little slip up in the security booth. So she would give him a chance. But not until after this fiasco was done and over with. Juliet shook her head, she needed to get her priorities straight, and right now they were find Detective Lassiter first, think about Shawn later.

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Meanwhile, back in the Blueberry as they drove back to SPBD, Shawn was having similar thoughts about Juliet, only he was being more vocal.

"So, you think she'll agree?" he asked his friend, who sighed.

"I'm sure she will Shawn, just don't agonize over it. Be your usual, woman-charming self and it'll be fine. That's the number one thing I've learned about women, be yourself around them, or the self that they know you for. That and never let them meet your psychic best friend. Now stop thinking about her, you need to focus on the case. Lassiter could be hurt, or worse."

Shawn felt immediately guilty. For once, he didn't have a witty response to that. Gus was right, he needed to be focused on finding the detective. As much as the detective hated him, he got the feeling that Lassie was relying on him. Not that the detective would ever admit that, but still, Shawn had this gut feeling.

They pulled up in front of the station as Shawn sat, deep in thought over anything that could possibly help them.

As they entered the station, Juliet approached them.

"I sent the ledger to handwriting analysis and well as for fingerprints, but we doubt that will turn up anything, as the killer was wearing gloves. You haven't thought of anything new? Haven't had a psychic vision?"

Shawn looked at her earnestly. He had been racking his brain for information for the past ten minutes on the drive to the station and hadn't come up with anything. "I'm sorry, Jules, I've tried and tried, but I just can't get a psychic signal latched on. I-" his voice trailed off as he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A flyer, stapled to the wall: _Tall Hills Construction_ it said.

Tall Hills construction. His mind flashed back to the security booth. The man had been wearing construction boots, with mud on them. And etched faintly, barely noticeable on the blurry camera, were a few letters he could barely make out. _Tal His_. So a few letters had been missing, but he had assumed that it was just a shoe company or something like that. He grinned, then cried out as he faked yet another psychic vision.

He stumbled towards the flyer, ripped it off the wall with both hands and then proceeded to wave it around in front of Juliet's face, all the while making his limbs to sporadic movements. After a few seconds of this dangling, Juliet finally grabbed the flyer and Shawn sagged in relief onto a nearby chair.

"Tall Hill Construction." she read out loud.

"I feel that our killer worked there, recently," he said. The mud on the boots had been fresh, like he had just been working. "Look up all the employees at the place that work at sights near or within Santa Barbara. And search for anyone of them who has a medical degree or at anytime went to college for medicine. Somewhere it just rained, around that time. He would have been working there."

Juliet was already barking orders to one of the nearby police officers, who immediately typed in what she asked for. The Chief came out of the office. "What's all this commotion? A break in the case?" She was exhausted. Just a few minutes ago she had finished her rant at the hospital security. The damn people had hung up on her! But they lost her head detective, they weren't getting off easy.

Juliet looked immensely relieved when she answered the chief. "Shawn had a major break through. We might be able to get the kidnapper's home address."

"Great job, Spencer," said Vick, turning to the psychic detective. "I really do hope this psychic stuff of your's pays off, because if it doesn't and Detective Lassiter winds up dead because of it, you are going to have to face me."

Shawn nodded, confidently. He knew she wouldn't hesitate to do everything in her power to make him pay for lying, but he also knew that in this case, he was right. At least he hoped he was, because despite the Irish detective's gruffness towards Shawn, he was beginning to rather like the man.

"We found it!" a voice exclaimed. The group of four, Vick, Juliet, Shawn and Gus, turned in excitement to see McNab shouting triumphantly.

"Nick Jones, former doctor in Los Angeles before his mother passed away from terminal cancer. Oncologist. He hasn't been working as a doctor, but has applied to several job interviews at different hospitals in the Santa Barbara area. All of them were where our victim's were at. Explains how he knew the hospital. Probably got a tour and everything. He applied for a job with Tall Hill Construction after an accident involving some of their equipment got him injured. He didn't sue them, so I guess they couldn't have said no. Hold on, here's his boss's number."

Juliet dialed the number. "Hello?"

_Bob Essie here._

"This is Detective Juliet O'Hara from the SBPD. I was wondering if Nick Jones came in today."

_He didn't! What's this about? Did he do something wrong?_

"Thank you, Mr. Essie, very much, Your help was appreciated."

After she hung up the phone, Juliet nodded. "I think it's him. No Nick at work today, and he fits everything we saw so far from the tapes and profile. Let's go get him."

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"Nick Jones? Open up! This is SBPD!" Juliet yelled as she pounded on the door. It was twenty minutes later that she found herself at the man's house with a fully armed police team ready to come in with her. Shawn and Gus were following at the very back so they wouldn't be in as much danger.

When Nick failed to answer the door, Juliet tried one more time. "Nick Jones? We're coming in!" With a single motion, she indicated it was time to crash down the door. Two officers kicked down the door as one and the police began pouring into the house. The first thing that Juliet noticed was the stairs leading down to a steel door. Where Nick must be. That would explain why he didn't answer, he probably didn't hear them. And Lassiter might be down there.

She motioned for 3 officers to follow her. The door being steel, she wasn't expecting to be able to kick it open, so she simply pulled it open after whispering for the three officers to step back. The bright light poured into the room, and she saw a figure in a surgeon's mask pull out a gun at her.

"Freeze!" she yelled, but he pulled the trigger instead. As she went down, Juliet saw him being taken down by an onslaught of bullets, courtesy of the other officers.

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><p><em>Like I said before, I am SOOO sorry. I just, well, sort of forgot about this story. That, and I was on vacation. But don't kill me, please, otherwise you'll never hear the rest of the story. Anyway, I extend my humblest and most sincere apologies to those who were in any way offended or hurt by the prolonged update time of this story. I will try to post the next chapter within a week or two! Nothing like last time! So, please, read and review. Tell me what you think.<em>


	11. Chapter 11

_This ones a little shorter. Ok, a lot shorter. But it was kinda just supposed to be from Carlton's view getting rescued. Hope you like it :). I did update sooner than last time._

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Rescue<strong>

When he regained consciousness once more, all Carlton could feel was the pain. A burning sensation, in his lower gut. _The bullet_, he thought. He strained to open his eyes and saw maniacal grin of his kidnapper, standing over him.

"How does it feel? Detective Lassiter? How does it feel to be helpless? Dying? They're not coming for you, they're never going to come for you." With those words, he leaned in with the scalpel and Carlton felt him cut the area where the bullet hole had gone in.

Carlton almost screamed, but contained in a grunt of pain. The sensitive flesh around his raw wound protested and he was dully aware of the pain signals getting sent to his vision was fogging up, he couldn't see or here anything clearly. He couldn't move. He was going to die, Carlton Lassiter was going to die and he was scared.

Suddenly, the pressure of the scalpel stopped. He heard "Freeze!" Juliet's voice. It was Juliet. He exhaled in relief, then let out an indistinguishable whimper. The pressure may have been gone but it hurt like hell. Through his muffled senses, he vaguely heard a gun go off close to him, then a series of shots and two thumps.

_Juliet,_ he thought, a panic closing in on him. She couldn't be hurt, she just couldn't.

After what seemed like minutes, but was probably only seconds, Lassiter felt hands on him. Applying pressure to the wound, _Damn that hurt,_ checking his wrist for a pulse. He heard shouts, could here the sound of wheels. The EMT's were here. Of course they were. Juliet would have had them follow her when they stormed the house if there was a possibility that he alive. Juliet had found him, she hadn't abandoned him.

As he was lifter onto the gurney and was being wheeled out, he felt small, soft hands slip into his own.

"It's alright, Carlton, I've got you." He looked up, blearily, and saw Juliet, walking beside him as the EMT's wheeled him to the ambulance. Her blonde hair, normally in a tight ponytail, was messy, her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"I heard gun shots, I thought-I thought he had gotten you."

"He did," she admitted. "But I had a vest on. Shame really, I liked that shirt."

"Are you ok?" he demanded to know.

"Just a little bruised, I'll be fine," she said. "You're the important one here. They'll make sure you make a full recovery, you'll be fine, but right now you need to lie back."

They were loading into the ambulance and Juliet made to let go of his hand.

"Stay, please," Carlton almost begged. He didn't want to be alone, not after all this.

Her expression softened. "Of course, I'll stay as long as I can. Now rest."

Carlton barely felt the prick in his arm as the IV was attached to him. He felt the new drugs begin to take effect, but this time, he wasn't scared. Juliet was with him.

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><p><em>I just would like to restate that this is NOT a LassiterJuliet fic, not in the romantic way anyway. They are developing a strong emotional bond, yes, but not a romantic one. Shules is always my pairing :) Just wanted to clear things up._

_Read and Review?_


	12. Chapter 12

_Well, here's the next chapter. I really don't have much to say except ENJOY!_

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><p>Chapter 12<p>

Juliet was walking restlessly back and forth across the waiting room, wringing her hands. Carlton was in surgery, though the doctors assured her that he was pretty well off for someone shot in the abdomen. The bullet had not hit any vital organs at first glance and he should make a full recovery in 4-6 weeks. Knowing Lassiter, he would try to be back at the station within 3 weeks.

"Juliet, you need to calm down," said Shawn. "Seriously, he's going to be fine. And you are making me dizzy from the pacing."

He stood up and gently guided her to a seat. "You need to rest. You haven't slept since Lassie was kidnapped and you took a bullet to the chest, remember? The vest may have been protecting you, but I'll bet it left a pretty nasty bruise."

Juliet sighed. Shawn was right, again. She leaned back in the hard waiting chair, which suddenly seemed surprisingly comfortable and before she knew it, she was drifting off.

Shawn looked fondly and the sleeping Juliet O'Hara.

"I've got such a great girlfriend, Gus," he confided in his best friend.

"Don't get cocky, Shawn. She agreed to go on ONE date with you. She's not your girlfriend yet."

"But who could resist this," Shawn gestured to himself.

"And I suppose that why you keep your girlfriends for no longer than a week."

"Juliet is different," Shawn murmured.

Gus was shocked by the level of care in his friends face. Shawn never showed that kind of deep emotion.

"Who is here to see a Carlton Lassiter?" questioned a nurse, effectively breaking the mood.

Shawn instantly reverted back to his child like state. "Oh, Lassie's awake!" he exclaimed, shaking Juliet awake. "Let's go see our favorite detective!"

When Carlton first started to regain consciousness, he noticed the absence of pain right away. Then he noticed the white walls, the antiseptic smell and heard the familiar beep of the heart monitor.

Was he back in the hospital? Was he still undercover and everything else was just a dream?

He heard the exclamation "Lassie!" and got a sense of deja vu. It was that idiot Spencer and his-tag along Guster no doubt.

He pulled himself up and gasped as his side felt a stab of pain. Reaching down, he touched the bandages firmly wrapped around his abdomen. So it hadn't been a dream, which meant Spencer had probably led them there. Carlton sighed, he probably should at least try to act civilized towards the fake psychic, he did after all save his life. The head detective groaned. Being in debt to that idiot was not something he was happy about.

"Carlton," a softer voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Juliet O'Hara standing there with a relieved smile on her face.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Shawn was rambling about something but Lassiter wasn't listening to his babbling. He was looking at Juliet, who was smiling at him, but he could see the emotions roiling beneath.

"Spencer," his voice was gravelly. "Get out, now. Your presence is not conducive for my health."

At first it looked like the psychic was going to argue, but then Guster whispered something into his ear and he nodded as the pair of them walked out.

"How are you, O'Hara? Juliet?" he added the last as an afterthought. For now, he was going to call her by her first name.

"I'm fine," she sniffled. "Your the one who was hurt."

"And you took a bullet to the chest," argued Carlton. "Which, I know from experience, is not very pleasant even with a vest on."

Juliet looked at him, tears threatening to fall. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Is it always like this, when you're scared you're going to lose a partner? Back in Florida, I didn't actually know anyone who got killed, but I knew people whose partner's had died."

"Hey, hey," soothed Carlton. "You don't need to be worrying about me. I've survive numerous encounters, I'll survive ones to come. We just need to be focused on today."

He opened his arms, as an invitation and Juliet sank into them. He felt a few of her tears soak through his hospital gown, but Carlton didn't care. Sure, he wasn't a hugger, but for his partner, he would be anything, do anything to make her happy. Because he loved Juliet O'Hara. Maybe not in a romantic type of love, he didn't need another Lucinda, but more like a platonic love. Stronger than just friends. Like his sister. Incidentally, Juliet was a lot like her, cheerful and bubbly, but also strong and authoritative. And they both looked up to him, which did wonders to his self-confidence.

After a minute or two, it felt longer, Juliet pulled away, rubbing her eyes. Carlton caught the passing whiff of her peach scented shampoo, not as strong as it usually was, she must not have had much spare time to shower.

"Now, I want you to go home, get some rest, eat, do whatever you haven't had time to do while you were looking for me." he said as authoritatively as he could manage.

She opened her mouth to argue, "No 'buts'" he said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Oh, and while you leave, send that idiot Spencer on in with his friend, will you? They're going to barge in anyway."

"Yeah, about that," said Juliet. "Uh, well, while you were missing, Shawn kind of suddenly asked me out on a date. And, well, I said yes."

Carlton rolled his eyes. "I should have seen that one coming. Of course he would go for you."

"But, you're not mad," pressed Juliet. "I know you don't like him, but, well I don't want this to ruin our partnership or anything."

"It won't," reassured Carlton. "I may not like him, heck I may hate him, but I will put up with him, especially if he makes you happy. But one wrong move on his part-"

"Yeah, I think I get it," laughed Juliet.

"Oh, but does he?" asked Carlton in reply.

A mock look of horror filled Juliet's face. "Oh, please don't scare him off, Carlton, I really do want to give this a shot."

"Hah," he said, shortly. "I've been giving him grief for the past 4 years and he still won't leave. Do you think a little more should cause him to feel any different for you? Look, Juliet, I'm happy for you. You deserve a good relationship. I mean, granted, you could have done better than Spencer, but-"

"Alright, alright," said Juliet. "I can see you're trying to shoo me off. I'll tell Shawn to come on in."

"Get some rest, Juliet," he said seriously. "I mean it."

She nodded then walked out of the room. Carlton saw her talking to the two consultants, who had managed to procure a pineapple shaped balloon in the ten minutes they had been out of the room. She gestured to the door and said something which caused Spencer to start behaving like a child again. Carlton sighed as he saw the psychic detective entering the room.

"Lassie!" he said. "So glad you are ok! Gus and I brought you a little something to brighten up this drab room."

The detective was just the tiniest bit grateful. He really did hate the colorless room, and as obnoxious as the balloon was, it did bring a little warmth.

"So Lassie, how you feeling? The doctors say you'll pull through. Do you need anything? Pineapple smoothie, pineapple cake, bacon sandwich? People get weird cravings on anesthetic. I remember Gus started wanting fish fingers and custard after he got his appendix removed. That was a weird time."

"Shawn, you promised not to bring that up again! You know I don't like reliving that taste. I felt it in my mouth for days and it tasted disgusting once the drugs wore off."

The two friends argued back and forth, but Carlton wasn't listening. His stomach was beginning to hurt again and he felt exhausted. Getting shot really did a number on the body. He fuzzily saw Shawn and Gus looking at him before he fell asleep, once more tired from the events that had transpired.

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Shawn and Gus were arguing about the fish fingers and custard incident when they noticed Lassiter was having a hard time staying awake. They watched as he lost consciousness.

"Is everything alright?" questioned Shawn. "I mean, should we call someone?"

"No, he's just asleep, it's alright," said Gus. "He's just had a large trauma, of course he's tired. We probably should leave so we don't wake him. Don't want the nurses chewing our heads off for disturbing one of the patients."

"Look at Lassie," said Shawn, smiling. "He's so cute when he's asleep."

"You better hope he's really asleep, because if he heard you, he's going to hurt you," warned Gus. "Let's get out of here."

"Fine," pouted Shawn. "But before we go, I'm going to snap a picture."

He pulled out his Iphone and quickly snapped a photo of the sleeping detective then dashed out of the room.

"No, Shawn you can't!" yelled Gus as he chased after his best friend. "Lassiter is going to kill us!"

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><p><em>Well that, my dear readers, may or may not be the end of the story. I mean, there might be an epilogue, but it could be in a month, or a week, it depends on my level of inspiration. There's really not much more to write about, so I may just have an extra chapter of Lassiter returning to the station. Or, I may not. Anyway, <strong>Read and Review<strong>!_


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